


Heartless

by Raspberry Rush (RaspberryRush)



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryRush/pseuds/Raspberry%20Rush
Summary: This is my first go at this.  I'm excited and nervous.  I kind of know where I want the story to go, but not sure if it will end up there. Thanks for reading.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a cool spring day, the first semi nice day after a winter that seemed to last a thousand years. I sat there, on top of a picnic table in the park, wearing jeans, a black hoodie and my favorite beanie. Next to me was a seemingly innocent box. However, that box was about to break someones heart. Not, just someone but Mike. My soon to be ex boyfriend, who I had dated for a record twelve months. Relationships, I wasn’t good at, break ups I could handle like a champ. I knew to slowly and silently collect any items of value or meaning I had left at the boy friends house, although as a rule of thumb I tried to treat his house like a crime scene and leave nothing behind. I knew to slowly cut back on communication, letting them ease into the idea of not talking to me. Obviously I couldn’t completely stop talking to them, but stop responding to texts that don’t demand an answer, hang out once or twice a week, and so on. Most importantly I knew to pick a neutral place for us to meet, preferably out doors so no meals or prolonged interaction was involved, I also knew to have all their belongings from my place packed up neatly in a box, so there would be no need for them to reach out to me. After the break up, I would block them on facebook, for their own good, and block their number. I was all about the clean break up. I had been since my heart had gotten broken in the messiest way possible. I checked my phone about fifteen minutes ago, Mike had asked if I wanted coffee and I said no. He should be here shortly. 

I watched him as he walked up. Cute in his own right, in that generic boy way. He looked happy. Soon, he would look angry and hurt. His smile brightened as he got closer, he hadn’t noticed the box and if he did, he didn’t realize it’s meaning.

“I’m glad you invited me out, even if it is still too chilly for a day at the park.” He said as he got closer. 

I shot him back a tight smile, “It was time we got together.” Was my response.

His smile faltered at my words. He could tell from the tone and my smile that something was off, his eyes darted to the box. Mike stopped short before reaching me, his eyes no longer warm. 

“Is that what I think it is Isabella?” He asked sharply, I could see a storm brewing from inside of him. 

“Probably.” I said in a strong tone. 

“I fucking knew this was coming. It started small, you taking your clothes home and not leaving anything to replace them. I thought, oh she just wants all her shit together. Then the couple books and movies gone. Finally, your excess jewelry that you just took off at night and threw anywhere and your phone charger. Once the charger was gone I knew, I wanted to lie to myself but I knew. And I had heard the drunken stories from your friends about your box technique. It was like a fucking warning label, but no, I thought we were different. That those guys before me must of just been fucking assholes. That our love was strong enough.” At that point I cut Mike’s rant off. 

“I never once said I loved you, not once. You threw those words around like it was no big deal but I never said it back.” I clairified, because I hadn’t.

As a matter of fact I hadn’t told any man I had loved him, outside of friendships, since James ripped my heart out and left me on the ground to die. 

“Oh you with you tight smile and an I know. Or goofy grin and a you’re not so bad yourself. God, I thought I was getting through to you. Thought your walls were coming down and I get this, the fucking box.” Mike said with a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurting. Take care Mike.” I said as I stood up to walk away. 

I took about four steps and he grab my arm hard and pulled me back. 

“You don’t get to just walk away from me.” He said in a low menanicing voice. 

“Let go Mike, it’s over.” I said softly. His eyes were wild. 

Mike threw his coffee on the ground and started shaking me, “Who is it you little whore? There has to be someone else.” He yelled.

“MIKE! Stop it. You're causing a scene and hurting me.” I could feel his hands gripping my arms harder and harder. 

“God I just want to hit you.” Mike said, catching the attention of another guy. 

“Man, look let her go. You’re hurting her. Just let her go.” This stranger said as he approached this ridicules scene.

Yes Mike, just let me go. I thought and hoped he could. 

Mike looked at the man and dropped his hands, “You’re not even worth it..” He said picking up his box and turning around, I guess he just needed to have the last words. 

I watched him walk to his car and sighed. 

“You okay?” The guy asked glancing over at me.

“I will be.” I sighed as I started towards my car again. 

Once I slid into my car I felt better, lighter. In my car I always knew that it was over. No more tense messages, no more guessing on his end. We would both be fine. Mike would eventually move on, and be thankful that he did. Mike would come to realize that I didn’t bring him the passion a longer term relationship needed, and comfort isn’t a reason to stay. Beyond that, he would analyze everything and realize, that I truly didn’t love him. 

I wondered, if I was capable of loving again, trusting my heart to someone again. James had done a number on me. It started with lying, who he was with, where he was going, what he was doing. I knew something had changed, but I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to believe he was still taking night classes, that he didn’t resent me for the high paying job I had, the new friends I had made.

“Bella, how do you have time for your art with this fucking corporate job?” James spit at me after I came home. 

Our apartment had been the upstairs of a run down house on the skirts of Ohio City. James was an artist, he painted and wrote music. We had met and fallen in love our first year in college. He found me sitting outside on a bench in the rain, sketching. He didn’t say a word, he just pulled out a camera, at the time he was working with mixed media. He started feverishly taking pictures from all angles, it would have been hard to not notice him. However, I continued working on the self portrait I was doing in chalk. 

“The colors are smearing.” He said once he sat down next me.

“I know.” I responded. 

“The picture will be muddied.” He stated.

“That’s the point.” I sighed. 

“Why?” He was clearly confused. 

“Because the rain makes it more beautiful. Everything that’s naturally beautiful is imperfect. I want this to be naturally beautiful.” I said, finally looking at him. 

He was, your stereo typical art major, shaggy hair barely contained in a black beanie, a shirt with paint stains, ripped jeans and zip up hoodie open. His eyes were an icy blue, and I felt like they cut right through me. I wanted to save those eyes, that color. I flipped the page in my sketch book and grabbed two shades of blue and one white. I started to draw his eyes. 

“James.” He breathed out. 

“Bella” I responded in kind. 

He grabbed my hand, pulled me up, dumping my book on the ground and kissed me. That was the moment I fell in love with James. 

I always had a practical goal of working in advertising. In my heart, I believed I would still do my own art and maybe sell it on line or give it to friends. But I never planned on my art being my income. James was the opposite, and he wanted the same for me. After a year of dating, I thought he might be right that I could do it. I put some pieces in a local gallery and they sold. That night he asked me to move in with him. 

I continued to take art, graphic design, and advertising classes. By our junior year, James had sold enough of his work and his band had gotten enough paid gigs that he decided to drop out of college. “My parents were paying for it anyway, it was their dream not mine.” James told me after he had done it. Our apartment was a studio and rehearsal space. 

“Babe! Henry called. He has a client interested in you doing a commission for him!” James yelled as he burst into the bedroom. I was surrounded by half down projects, pitches that were turned down.  
“What?” I said frazzled. 

“You have an interested patron! You don’t have to do this advertising graphic design shit! Be the artist I know you are.” He said kissing me. 

“I can’t right now, I know about the guy. Henry called me, but I told him with my internship and finals I didn’t have the time to focus on side work.” 

“What?” James recoiled like I had hit him. 

“Babe, we’ve talked about this. Once I’m done I can do all the free lance I want. All the commissions, all the art. Right now, I need to focus on this. The patron will still be there in three months and if he isn’t, he wasn’t the right client for me.” I said with a smile. 

“Oh.” Was all James said as he walked out of the room, that night he slept on the couch. I didn’t realize it then, but that was the beginning of the end for us. I couldn’t see it, to me he hung the stars and moon. 

 

I shook my head walking into my posh down town apartment. It didn’t do well to dwell on my past with James. The memories always seemed to come in, fast and furiously after a break up. I walked over to my kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Titos. I had recently switched from whiskey to vodka, because I trusted myself more with vodka. Sometimes I didn’t know myself with Jameson. I threw some ice in a glass, poured about three fingers worth into it, added some water and two squirts of lemonade mio. I sipped it as I walked to the window, looking at an angry Lake Erie. I felt my fingers twitching, I wanted to grab a sketch pad, colored pencils and capture the lake in all its fury. I glanced over at the door to the room I deemed my studio. I hadn’t had a successful piece in months. I hated everything I made and barely finished a piece before throwing it out or burning it. That was part of the reason I had to break up with Mike. My art was suffering. 

“How’d it go?” I wasn’t surprised to hear Rose’s voice. She was always the one who came by after I broke up with someone. She had been their when James destroyed me. She watched me build my walls. I know she thought my reckless relationships were just a phase. Something I needed to work out of my system before settling down. 

“No tears.” I said as I took another pull of my drink. I wondered in that moment if my arms had been bruised, I assumed the answer was yes. 

Rose sighed as she put my bottle back in the cabinet and closed the door. I knew what she was doing, she was taking an inventory of me and my apartment trying to get a feel for my mental state. When things got bad for me, truly bad, my apartment reflected it. Everything would be a mess. Bottles, trash, clothes, papers, books, paint, everything would just be everywhere. 

“The place is clean Rose, don’t worry.” I said turning to look back at her. 

“I don’t get the problem with Mike, he adored you. He was patient. He was…” Rose was stating as I cut her off.

“Boring Rose, he was boring.” I lifted an eyebrow daring her to tell me otherwise. 

“Maybe boring is what you need?” She questioned with her hands on her hips, in an aggressive position. 

“And how long would you keep someone around who kept telling you, they loved you when you couldn’t say it back?” I asked turning back to the window. 

I loved Rose. I met her at my first job in advertising. I was part of the art department, she was a copy writer. We clicked right away. I think she saw James and I were toxic for each other before either of us did. She would hang out, but watched him carefully. He picked up on it, and hit on her. When she turned him down he hated her and I had to hid our friendship. She is the one who picked me up from my dark spiral. 

“Honey…” She said once standing next to me.

“I swear to God Rose if the word therapy slips out of your mouth I will throw this drink on you.” I sighed. 

“I know. I just worry.” She said as she watched me take a long drag from my drink. “So,” she said intentionally making her tone lighter, “are we continuing on our tradition?” 

“Oh I don’t know Rose.” I laughed. “Can it just be you and I?” I asked with hope. 

“Well, that might be hard. Alice’s cousin Edward just moved here and she wants to take him out to show him the town tonight with the gang.” Rose said taking my drink from my hand and taking a sip. 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Well I guess you should let her know that there are two open spots on her reservation. I’m not going.” I took my glass back. 

“First of all, she never made a reservation for Mike, we saw this coming for months. In fact I think Jasper won the pool.” Rose said casually. 

“Ha.” I said drily. 

“You can’t cancel.” 

“Watch me.” I said going for my phone. 

“You’ll break Alice’s heart.” Rose said softly. 

I paused, I found Alice to be taxing at best. A ball of happiness and energy that seemed paranormal. Some days she seemed the exact opposite of me, yet I couldn’t help but smile when around her. She never tried to tell me how to feel, or live my life. In fact she had set me up on blind dates, ruining some of her friendships. 

“Ugh. I’m not saying I’m going, but I will think about it. Now leave, I have work to do.” I said grabbing the bottle of Titos out of the cabinet and heading to my studio.

“Bella, you know you don’t have to be sad and tortured to make good art.” Rose said as she watched me.

“Good bye Rose.” I said closing the door


	2. Chapter 2

I had one rule for my friends, only one. Not to interrupt me when I was working. When my art was flowing through me. I had no idea how long I had been in my studio after Rose left. All I knew is that the Titos was gone and the colors were vibrant. An abstract portrait of Mike, not how he actually looked today, but how my soul felt him. Bright reds for his anger, dark blues for the sadness intermixing together in a harmony of hatred. 

“You didn’t answer your phone.” Alice’s voice broke me out of my thoughts.

“Jesus! Alice! One rule.” I yelled turning around. 

“Rose told me not to expect you tonight, but I said ‘No, Bella knows this is important to me.’” Alice continued on like I hadn’t said anything, her eyes sad.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I sighed as I went back to the painting. Looking to see if it needed something else. 

“So, you’re not coming?” Alice asked in a small voice.

“Does it look like I’m coming?” I replied without looking away from my canvas. 

“You still could you know, we're all waiting downstairs. You don’t even have that much paint on you.” Alice asked hopefully.

“Alice. I don’t know why you’re shocked by this? This is me. I am a selfish disappointment.” I said sharply.

“No you aren’t.” She argued.

“Are you disappointed in me right now?” I shot back.

“Well, yes.” She agreed.

“Am I being selfish? Choosing my art over your event?” 

“Well, I mean…” Alice trailed.

“The sooner you realize I am a selfish disappointment the happier you will be. Now go. One rule Alice, one.” I said moving the canvas off the easel and putting a half finished one onto it.

I didn’t hear Alice leave, just the door close. 

 

There would be hell to pay for this in the morning. Alice was the groups ray of sunshine. No one hurt her, and if you did, everyone told you about it. Although, I supposed I was the only one to ever hurt her. Because sometimes my rain cloud didn’t need a ray of sunshine. 

 

“God, I don’t know how you do it. Your art was slamming for the brewery. I cannot believe they denied it.” Rose sighed as she flopped down on the couch in James and my house. 

“Just part of the glamour of the job babe.” I said with a sigh, opening a beer and handing it to her. “At least I still have this free beer while I rework it.” 

“James home?” Rose asked in an overly casual voice. 

“No, he has a commission, and is meeting with the patron.” I said. “Which, by the way. I have a gallery show this weekend, are you coming? There will be cheap wine.” 

Rose smiled, “You’re too talented for our office.” 

“I have to pay the bills Rose, besides you're starting to sound like James.” I sighed. 

Rose and I had a nice night in, she left around midnight. I went back to work on the brewery art. They wanted something grittier, that showed more “real life”. They didn’t know what they wanted was the truth. They just had buzz words and an idea. But, if I landed this, it would be the third big account with my art work and I was pretty much promised a promotion. 

Two am and James was home. 

“Hey babe.” I said as I stretched. I made a mixed media label. A collage of things that made me think of Cleveland. The next day I would scan it into my computer and make it something unforgettable. 

“I didn’t think you’d still be up.” James said with a sneer. I was used to his hostility, as I kept advancing in my career and selling my own art in galleries he was getting madder and madder at me. 

“I wanted to see you, between your night classes, band and your commission I feel like I haven’t seen you in a life time.” I said stretching up to hug him. He smelled off, not like him. Not like paint… Something soft and feminine. 

“Maybe that was by design.” He said sharply. 

I looked into his eyes. “Are you high?” 

“Ha, of course that’s what you’d think.” He deflected. I knew he was. His eyes dilated, his vains looking blown out. 

“James! Don’t fucking lie to me!” I yelled. 

He responded by slapping me. 

“You’ve been lying to me since we met.” He sneered.

“No, I haven’t.” I cried.

A punch, directly to my face threw me onto the ground. A kick to my ribs. A broken cry from me.

“Yes, you did.” He screamed as he grabbed me off the ground and started shaking me. “You let me believe you where a real artist, but you’re just a corporate sell out. You fucking cunt.” He threw me back on the ground and stormed off to the bedroom slamming the door. 

I laid on the floor broken. I knew my relationship was over, but the thought of losing him hurt more then my throbbing physical pain. 

I made some of my best art the next three days. Full of hurt, confusion, anger. I redid the art for the brewery and they bought it. They liked it so much they signed an exclusive deal with my company for me to do all the art work for their products, I got the promotion. My gallery show sold out. James and Rose came to my show. Rose was ecstatic. James sneered making a statement that I couldn’t of done it without him. There was a new women there, someone I hadn’t seen before. Wild red hair, her name was Victoria. When she came up to me she was condescending , like she knew more than I did. Her perfume was strong and strangely familiar. 

For the next month. James behavior became more erratic. My art became full of anger. When I did see James, I was his personal punching bag. Rose looked at me with a knowing glance. Never bringing up the bruises, never bringing up how violent my personal work had become. Victoria was around more and more. It was almost like they were daring me to call them out. Two months after the initial fight, James had a gallery showing. I went, as I always did. It was at a new gallery, not one of the many James and I had always signed with. This was in a dark warehouse, with brilliant spot lights on the work. I didn’t see any of our usuals at the entrance, I was going to wait for Rose to walk in, but I didn’t. The installment started off showing our relationship. Eyes in the rain, mixed media of our house, the happy moments. It slowly transformed into something dark, broken, filled with hate. The final pieces of the installment was highly sexual, photos and paintings of Victoria in different states of naked, arousing poses. As I moved through the warehouse I felt myself die. The final room, was a silent black and white video. It started with James and Victoria doing drugs, then having sex, it cut to him punching me, then back to them having sex. It ended with a statement that I had seventy two hours to get my shit out of their house. That’s where Rose found me crumbled on the floor. 

 

I knew I was in trouble the next day after Alice’s outing when it was Emmett who came to my apartment. 

“You alive bud?” Emmett asked as he poked me. I had fallen asleep in front of the window in my living room. Chalk in hand and now on my face. 

“Yeah.” I mumbled and I slowly got off the floor. “God I feel like I was hit by a truck.”  
“That’s what happens when you sleep on hardwood floors. What happened to your arms?” He asked. 

I’d forgotten that I had put on a tank top at some point, because I was too hot for sleeves anymore. 

“Nothing.” I said as I made my way to my kitchen.

“Doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like hands.” Emmett said following me. 

I pulled out some orange juice and shook it at him before pouring my own glass.

“No thank you, your arms?” Emmett wasn’t going to let this go. 

“Mike got a little upset yesterday, and wanted to continue the conversation.” I said casually. 

“And those would be his hands.” Emmett stated in an eerily calm manner. 

“Don’t be upset. It was his final stance. I’m sure he just wanted to hurt me as I had just hurt him.” I explained, I could see the anger behind Emmett’s calm eyes. If there was one thing he hated was a man who laid hands on a women. 

“Well this changes things.” Emmett mumbled dialing his phone and putting it to his ear. “Yeah, I’m here. No, I didn’t. Did you fucking know Mike hurt her?” 

“Emmett not that big of a deal.” I sighed wishing I had a back up bottle of vodka. 

“Well, the matching bruises on her arms say otherwise.” Emmett stated. I wondered which of our friends sent Emmett. Probably Rose, she probably thought she had me with the whole breaking Alice’s heart thing. Or maybe Jasper, he hated when I hurt Alice. I doubt it was Alice, she usually forgave me pretty quickly. 

“I know. I will. Well, I mean of course that changes things. Alright. Love you.” Emmett hung up. 

“Changes what?” I asked rummaging around my cabinets, I wanted breakfast but nothing here was exciting me. 

“Are you okay?” Emmett asked. 

“I’m always okay.” I replied. 

“Look at me.” Emmett demanded softly. 

I looked at him, at the concern in his eyes. “How long?” He asked I knew what he meant. How long had Mike been doing this. 

“First time, I guess I just bring it out of them.” I said with a wry smile. 

“No jokes Bells.” Emmett said with sad eyes.   
“Look, this is the first time he’s actually hurt me. We’d had some pretty wicked fights. He started punching walls, throwing things when he was drunk. I knew it was coming and got out. He's not a bad guy. I drive them crazy. It’s me.” I said and broke on the last sentence. 

In that moment I wished it was Rose confronting me. That she hadn’t been so mad she came and checked on me. She knew how broken I was, she knew. By proxy I knew Emmett knew. You don’t love as hard as Emmett and Rose without telling each other everything. But I liked that I could pretend in front of him. In front of the rest of them, that I was okay. Now with my tears pouring out, I couldn’t pretend. 

“Leave.” I stated coldly. 

“No.” Emmett just wanted to protect me, to protect everyone he loved.

“I want you to leave.” I said again. 

Emmett went to wrap me in one of his patented hugs. Emmett had a hug that made you safe, loved, and important. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” I said pushing him away. “I don’t want to be touched!” I screamed. 

“Bells…” He didn’t know what to say. 

“LEAVE!” I screamed as I scrambled to my bedroom. 

I crumbled behind my door. Crying. Remembering, hurting. It would always be me. I would always drive them to extremes. Which is why I knew better then to date someone for more than three or four months. 

I listened as he paced outside the door. Not sure how to make things better Emmett called Rose again. 

“She locked herself in her room. I don’t know what to do. Well, she told me to leave. I told her no. I’m not going to just leave her…. Rosie! I can’t just… Well yeah I did try to hug her… But I… Okay… Okay… Yeah, bye.” I heard Emmett sigh. 

“I’m leaving Bells. Love you.” 

Once I was sure he was gone, I got up. The first thing I did was block my friends phone numbers, the next thing I did was change the passcode on my door, so I wouldn’t get any other unexpected visitors. Finally I grabbed my keys, I was going to need more vodka and more paint to get through this.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first go at this. I'm excited and nervous. I kind of know where I want the story to go, but not sure if it will end up there. Thanks for reading.


End file.
